


In Favour Of

by karanguni



Category: The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: AU, Other, random guest appearances, sometimes you just have to fix things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Of course the capital,' Ashe said, his brow furrowing somewhat. 'You didn't think that Therem would stay here forever?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Favour Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voksen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/gifts).



In the end, Genly stayed. He went to Estre, trundling eastwards as part of the entourage that followed the medical car. Ashe rode alongside him for most of the journey, the two of them mute travel companions on a long vigil. Genly felt a comradeship grow, silent but sure, between them. No one stopped them as they went, even though the indictment on Therem had yet to be rescinded. No one dared.

As for Estraven, the days passed as he slumbered on in his coma, sleeping as though he deserved every moment of the rest. When they’d got him to a hospital that day, it seemed that almost half of his left side had been blown away by bullets. Estraven had fallen into a deep, recuperative stupour. No one had known whether he’d ever awaken, but he certainly did not die. So they waited — the King waited, the Nation waited, the Ekumen waited, Genly waited.

And so Genly stayed. Genly stayed and watched Sorve weep over his father’s mangled body, then laugh and laugh and laugh when Estraven came back to them two months later.

'You look better than you had on the Ice,' Genly told Therem, not daring to take his hand or dance or shout or any of the things he wanted to do. Therem just smiled.

Ashe left when Estraven could not be convinced to stay abed for any more than his stipulated eight hours of sleep. They got into furiously moderate arguments about Estraven’s idea of what being moderate was, precisely. Genly watched all of this and pretended to take sociological notes. Finally, the day after Estraven stayed up an entire night writing a short but wholly condemning request to the King for a pardon, Ashe packed his bags and informed Genly that he would see him again in the capital.

'The capital?' Genly asked, surprised. He had assumed Ashe would go to a Fastness; that, or stay forever by Estraven's side.

'Of course the capital,' Ashe said, his brow furrowing somewhat. 'You didn't think that Therem would stay here forever?'

Genly, struck dumb for a moment, realised that he’d never even wondered if Estraven would leave Estre. When they’d first set out to bring Estraven home, it had been under the assumption that they were bringing a body back for burial. The thought that Estraven was now free — exile though he was — to go wherever he pleased, having seen his son and repaid some enormous debt of _shifgrethor_ to his father, boggled the mind.

'He shan't be Prime Minister again,' Genly said, aghast. 'He cannot.'

'Not Prime Minister, no,' Ashe agreed, but there was something about the way he said it that made Genly pause.

 

* * *

 

Estraven knocked on the door to the library. Genly was there most hours of the day now, translating and compiling histories for the Ekumen. It was a type of retirement; the best he could’ve hoped for. Others ran around in the cold while Genly wrote. It seemed fair. That Estraven had given him access to every archive, including those containing private journals, had been as dear an expression of love that Genly could imagine.

Hearing the knock, Genly stood and picked up one of the many canes he left laying about his desks and headed to the door. True to form, Estraven stood, unassisted, outside in the cold corridor.

'You'll be the death of yourself,' Genly said, giving him the cane. Estraven never walked well since the incident.

'Are you calling me a suicide?' Estraven asked, taking it.

'Never, your highness,' Genly said, voice full of irony.

'I came to tell you something,' Estraven said, hobbling into the room to settle closer by the fire than he would've even five years ago. 'I am going to abdicate.'

Genly blinked. ‘And give Sorve the throne?’

Estraven the king laughed. ‘Of course not. It will go to one of my proteges; Hareth, I think.’

Genly said, very slowly, ‘You will abdicate to someone not of royal blood? Your blood?’

'Argaven abdicated to me,' Estraven said evenly. 'I don't see why I should not abdicate… what is that word you use? Meritocratically?'

Genly put his head down and laughed for a while. ‘What will you do?’ he asked when he regained himself.

'Live,' Therem said, holding out his scarred left hand. Cautiously, Genly extended his right. They touched, fingertip to fingertip, for the briefest of moments.  _Live_ , Genly heard in his mind,  _and be Therem Harth._


End file.
